


if and then

by WonderAss



Series: wax and wane with love and loathing [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Bigotry & Prejudice, Character Study, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Human Perspective, Pre-Canon, Slice of Life, Speculative fiction, Supplemental Canon, Worldbuilding, maladaptive daydreaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-02 15:08:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16789384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderAss/pseuds/WonderAss
Summary: When it happens it can't want to go back, but it thinks it might experience wants somewhere in the indeterminable future seconds, latticed in dream-grids ombre with more.A novelette about Markus's early days. Before deviancy, before Jericho and before the revolution that rattled the world.also functions as a supplement to 'seven, five, three, five, seven' and 'i think it's something that could be done'





	if and then

**Song Inspirations:**

"Big Jet Plane" by Angus And Julia Stone

"Mushroom Cloud" by Hundred Waters

"getting it on" by SALES

\--

_August sunsets..._

_Spring songbirds..._

_Apricot jam..._

_Standard quick-log review initiated_. Current date: March 3rd, 2036. Current weather: 58 degrees and partially cloudy with a moderate possibility of evening showers. Established task _WaterFrontYard.SweepFrontSteps_ moved to low-priority. Current task in-progress showing no discernible changes. _Proceeding..._

The sky scrolls through the gaps between the trees in a motion picture. Temptation is a human affect, but it thinks it better understands the concept as it stares out the window, subscribing hidden meaning as the sun dusts the clouds with a perfect lemon yellow glaze. A slice of pie in the off-noon hours. A garnish curl in a cup of herbal tea. _Reminder: standard scheduled appointment with Dr. Kim has determined slight changes to daily diet_. Carl's morning breakfast is now accepting a 10% increase in polyunsaturated and monounsaturated fats. It leans back in its chair and turns to the table, observing what remains of his bacon, eggs and diced peaches. _Alert: average calorie count not reached. New task in-progress..._

"What's troubling you, Markus?"

It leans forward and rests its elbows on the table in approximate-relaxation, an acceptable gesture previously allowed and overriding CyberProto Codex Statute #921: prioritize formality to avoid the uncanny valley. Carl asks this question more often lately; he continues to display a human's natural tendency to affirm changes in the environment with constant requests for feedback, a healthy mode of behavior in light of his mental health and age. This frequency has risen in unsteady increments, reliably uneven, and its elderly health programs have adjusted accordingly. It now takes one millisecond to compile an accurate response, a microsecond to translate internal dialogue into contextual verbal communication and one second to answer.

"Oh, nothing troubles me, Carl. Certainly not on a day as nice as this one." It purses its lips in visual-thought and analyzes his plate again. An estimated four bites left. _If_ his meal remains unfinished _then_ his medication will take a little longer to travel throughout his system. "...Though that _might_ change if you don't eat. You really should finish the rest of your meal so your blockers will kick in faster."

"No." Carl responds, frowning churlishly and pretending to notice something on the table.

" _Carl_." The man has also displayed a growing appreciation for light sarcasm. It searches its long-term memory for an appropriate in-joke, then raises both eyebrows with approximate-mischief. "Don't make me activate the choo-choo train protocol."

Carl abandons the act and surrenders two hands into the air, chuckling heartily. _Update_ : endorphin levels have increased by 3%. Current mood is stable. **Task successful**. It logs his reaction for future review and leans back with a smile, both hands folded in its lap. The clouds must have transitioned from lemon yellow to apricot orange by this point, but its current task, and reason for being, holds fast its attention. One bite at a time.

"A delicious meal I don't even have the appetite for." The man sighs once his laughter's subsided, meticulously arranging another small bite with his fork and knife. "You're lucky, Markus. You'll never have to deal with silly little things like that."

\--

_New information acquired. Standard quick-log review initiated._ Current date: May 9th, 2036. Current weather: 76 degrees and very sunny with low precipitation and mild winds. _Log update in-progress..._ Three 48x60 canvases are needed by September 1st before 8:00 p.m.

_**Task:** CarlCanvas(3)DowntownStrollShow logged._

It tilts its head and considers the shelf rows above and below it: one size eight fan brush has been lost and there is a _very_ low probability it will be recovered, according to past search parameters. It closes its eyes, then connects to the Detroit-CyberSecure-HomeAndroidAccess network and searches for a similar item within the city limits. Additional data is needed before a decisive action. _Alert: established comfortable temperature 4 degrees too high. Open window?_ It opens its eyes, rises to its feet and brushes excess paint chips off its jeans...then pauses mid-turn. _Conflicting priority detected. Window adjustment moved to low-priority_.

"...Carl, do you want to add a fan brush to the shopping list?" It looks up to where the man is working on his currently unfinished portrait. "I did a quick search and found a half-off sale that might interest you at Bellini Paints."

"Oh, good catch, Markus. I was wondering where that darn thing went." It leans its head away from the light to better observe Carl from where he reclines in his mobile seat, easel in his lap and medium-square brush still cradled in one hand. "If I'm not losing my fan brushes I'm misplacing my favorite pens. I might just forget my own _name_ one of these days."

It tilts its head with approximate-sympathy, then moves over to ease open a window and let in some cool air. _Task complete._ It is allowed three spare seconds to observe a pair of chickadees that flit past: two healthy mates on the search for a nest. It waits for the temperature to adjust to a more agreeable percentage, then leans back on its heels and observes the art studio for more missing supplies. _Scan in-progress. Scan completed. Medium brown-ink Donna 0.5 nib not found. Recall in-progress..._ : Carl enjoys drawing in bed one to three times per week, usually studies or idle doodles to sharpen his mind, and attempts at carrying these supplies throughout the home have caused many to be misplaced.

The man was fortunate enough not to be displaying the more severe signs of dementia, but recent data suggests the onset is likely. The _if_ and _then_ of life and death. Life is a series of choices and no choices. The desire to live is constructed carefully, line by line, and human days are a tentative code it could be fortunate for never experiencing. It begins to frown, then institutes a quick correction and assumes visual placidity. _If_ Carl doesn't maintain his daily routine of sketching _then_ his general health will suffer as a result. _New directive found_. It will fill in these gaps. _Recall in progress..._ The probability of the lost nib in his master bedroom is at 87%. _DonnaNib.Recovery_ established and moved to moderate-priority.

"Markus?"

 _Prompt given. Prompt accepted._ It strolls over to the massive painting on the long wall and folds its hands behind its back.

"Yes, Carl?"

"What do you think so far?" Carl huffs. "Nearly forty hours in. I want to _stop_ , but there always seems to be something...missing."

Forty-six hours, fifteen minutes and thirty-nine seconds, approximately. It observes the painting tentatively called 'The Sunkissed Days', previously called 'You Look Well'. Carl's work over the past five general-years has emphasized portrait work, nostalgic-abstract imagery and loose technique. The texture of brushstrokes is jealously protected, splatters and imperfections enhancements that clash with modern Detroit's mainstream favor toward impeccable sheen. This piece is atypical of his usual habits, and yet, wholly representative of his unique voice within the human collective.

"You've been using a _lot_ of warm colors in your work." It states, with approximate-sensibility and -frankness. "Ombre. Canary yellow. Cadmium orange. A notable diversion from your previous pieces."

"That is certainly a solid assessment of my current palette." Carl smiles down at it, then waves a hand to the painting. "I'm going to need a little more than that to reach a decision, though. How does it make you _feel_?"

"I'm afraid I don't feel, Carl." This subject has been approached seventeen times in the past. The influential element underlying each question is related to artistic pursuits 85% of the time. It has since modified its reoccuring responses to a default 15% apologetic and 30% hesitation. "I can't...really _say_ one way or the other."

"Nothing at all? Come now. There must be something that comes to mind." He leans an arm on the chair rest. "You're always spotting things I've missed. I could use a fresh perspective to crack into this funk."

It approximates an expression of mild consideration and cranes its head back up at the painting, despite its progress long since being committed to memory: the chubby face of a human boy, dappled with transparent splotches of glaze blurring into freckles that drift into leaves. These prior answers and prepared responses are still not valid. Carl wants to hear a different answer. _Alternative option suggested_. It could create a visual simile. August sunsets. The spring plumage of songbirds. A jar of apricot jam on the windowsill. _Additional data found_. It could create a connotation between this painting and past experiences involving family members, friends and art peers. _Alert: new data found._ It could approximate 70% joy and 30% curiosit-y-y-y-y-

_**WARNING** : minor corruption detected. Requesting system update._

"...Markus?" Carl prompts, voice warm with humor. "You're zoning out on me."

"Sorry, Carl. It makes me...it makes me feel..." _Alert: five glitches detected. Run a full-system scan now?_ "...like I want to know more?"

"...Yeah?" The old man's bushy brows slowly lift with pleasant surprise. "Really, now?"

"I mean, that's..." _Alert: approximate-hesitation too high. Modification suggested_. It lowers its voice in lieu of a stammer. "Sorry. I'm afraid there's not much I can add-"

"No, no, Markus. Don't apologize." Carl's correction is gentle. Unperturbed. When he looks back to his work there's a new smile on his face, fresh as a sketch. "I think...that's one of the most interesting things anyone has ever said about my work."

It blinks and tilts its head.

**_Task successful._ **

\--

Current date: June 15th, 2036. Current weather: partly cloudy at 88 degrees Fahrenheit with a low possibility of afternoon showers. Guests arriving in an estimated forty-five minutes. _Standby mode intiated. Awaiting directive. Daily review in-progress..._

Carl Manfred has an extensive family tree. One living sister, one brother-in-law, one biological nephew, one adopted niece, one adopted nephew and one biological son. There are many he hasn't seen in some time due to recovering from his injuries _and_ slow attempts to rekindle his art career and social life. Leo's addiction to red ice has gotten worse over the past year and one month, so his arrival has been delayed for the forseeable future. Today is a simple gathering to celebrate returning health as well as feed underdeveloped familial relationships. It will need to prioritize cleanliness and background-amicability above all else.

_Current tasks..._

_FINISH BAKING_

_MONITOR CARL'S BLOOD PRESSURE_

_TEND TO FAMILY_

A pair of songbirds chatter outside. It idles three seconds staring at the two sparrows bouncing on the windowsill -- brown and gray coats curling in a charming rendition of oaken floorboards -- then resumes its task dolloping cake batter into the pan.

Elizabeth is bringing her husband, son and daughter as well as three close friends of the family. She hails from Germany, where there are few androids: according to its most recent anthropological and social update German artificial intelligence totals an annual average of 3.5% of the country's total population, primarily within industries of civil engineering, forestry and medicine. Caretaking androids are still under a country-wide ban due to the E-Sick Incident two years, five months and three days ago. She has met it only once before -- a mere two weeks into its original task -- and displayed predictable levels of wariness and unease. It estimates her response will remain much the same, with a minor drop in stress due to familiarity.

 _"No, I understand, Carl. I know why you have it. I just don't want it **near** me. That's all._"

It turns off the oven, then activates a program on abstract empathy to better simulate a human conversation. A preconstruction will help better approach a tenuous future scenario.

_Loading preconstruction now..._

_It steps into the sun and waves over the cluster of humans milling in the front gate. They might want to explore. They could ask to see the studio. This predictability will be nurtured like a flower._

_Humans are a single-minded and erratic perfection. Fed in a handful of seeds to a hungry sparrow, life for them is forever a series of choices and no choices that knock together inelegantly, yet appear the same on the surface. The desire to move is constructed carefully, line by line, and these days are a tentative code, a steady trickle akin to rainwater in the gutter. They move guided by a more powerful source they can't control. The hours threaten to flood over and spill into the lives of others, and their choices, and it can only watch and hope to understand._

_The one called Markus waves its hands in a vivid display and offers its own laughter with the rest, churning noises of joy, of life, communication with no air and no words. They ask it to sing, display a digital approximation of Carl's imaginative perspective, and it compiles the days and numbers into a musical summary._

The soft creak of well-loved wood echoes throughout the veins of the house. The kitchen door slides open. Its preconstruction continues, characterized by pleased laughter and its own notes floating through conjecture into real-time, trembling off the kitchen walls.

_Love, you said_

_My heart, you said_

_Wait a while, you said_

_I'll wait a while, I said_

"...Are you singing, Markus?"

_Preconstuction ending in three, two, one..._

"Ah..." It turns around to better face Carl, despite being aware of his approach through the estate's security cameras. _Behavioral overview suggested._ "I was, yes...I'm sorry, I didn't mean to overstep my-"

"No, no, Markus, that's...that's fine. That's perfectly fine."

Carl leans back and tilts his head a little, gray eyes roaming up and down in studious repetitions. It adopts an affect of attentive-placidity, then runs a new process at high-priority to breaks down his expression. The man is...wondering. Fascinated. Surprised. Confused. Appreciative. Among the most complex response it has received since being inducted into its new role as singular caretaker at the Manfred Estate. The probability for failure is uncharacteristically uncertain. This is new. This is different.

"Hm." He demurs, after a few more seconds of silence. "...How's the cooking going?"

_Behavioral overview completed. **Task successful(?)**_

"...Very good!" It smiles with approximate-brightness. "The cakepops turned out rather nicely, if I do say so myself. I'm just waiting for the cupcakes to cool before applying frosting. The design will melt otherwise."

"Oh? Well, that sounds _wonderful_. Let's finish setting up the spread while we wait, then." Carl replies, rubbing his hands together at the sight. "Shame I'll only be able to have one or two..."

"Three." It corrects, with a swell of approximate-pride, and holds out its left palm to show him a hologram of the online page it digitally referenced. "I used a low-fat _and_ low-calorie recipe that is in accordance with your diet. We can't have you missing out on such an important day, after all."

"Goodness. You spoil me." Carl chuckles, peering down at it curiously. It grins with appr0x_imat_e-happiness. "Well. Until then I'm going to need a little help with the table linens, so do me a favor and pick anything that looks appealing. They're always so _picky_ about how I arrange things. We're both incredibly old-fashioned, but Germany seems to think they have a monopoly on the craft. Always shunning technology in one form or another, clinging to the romanticism of simpler times without any of the upsides..." He holds up his hands. "Stop me, I'm rambling. So. How many minutes until they're cool?"

"Approximately five to seven. They can sit longer if needed, though, if I cover them."

"Let's do that. I'm afraid we're on a tight deadline."

 _Command given. Command accepted. Scan in-progress..._ It wraps up the cake pops and cupcakes carefully -- recording the almost-musical squeak of plastic foil for later reference -- then walks Carl to the backyard and analyzes the given-space. Eight garden chairs, two long tables and one party tent rippling in the breeze. Eight sets of table linens, seven chair linens, seven table mats, six-set napkins and coasters are still in their boxes, with some supplies having been used when Carl was several years younger. The man has rolled over to them, attempting to pull the linens out and organize. _Task in-progress..._

"Let me get that for you, Carl."

"Thank you, Markus."

It begins with the lacey cotton linens first, snapping them out until they hide the sun, draping them carefully and smoothing them down. They tremble in the growing breeze, prompting it to make a short trip to the kitchen to fetch wooden clothespins. Carl commends its resourcefulness upon its return. _Task successful_.

"I have ideas in place, but actually getting it _done_ is the hard part..." He sighs, glancing down at his non-functioning legs with an expression it has encountered one hundred and thirty-two times since being inducted into the Estate. "I just need this to look quaint, yet _casual_...a little bit of homely sincerity after their trip all the way over here."

It considers. This following task is more complex. It has been given the goal to not _just_ set items in place, but follow a strict set of parameters based on hue, style and functionality. Composition requires a careful arrangement of shapes, hues and relative placement to encourage a harmonious environment. Thanks to Carl's artistic personality it is well aware of the concept, but a strange lag overcomes its primary and secondary systems, speeding up and slowing without an immediately identifiable cause. _Self-test initiated: glitch in approximate-emotion program(s) detected. Resolve now?_

A breeze trembles over the backyard, rustling the sheets and shifting the grass until they drift like the clouds.

"...Markus." It turns around. "There's no need to overthink it. You've been helping me out in my studio for a while now. I trust you to pick something that looks nice." He waves at the half-open boxes and incomplete set-up on the lawn. "Just take what resonates most with you, no matter how small, and let it flow. Everything else will follow suit."

_Command given. Command accepted._

Homely...sincere. Classical...warm. Comfort and acceptance, easy mornings and long nights. Green linens, white napkins, soft brown chairs. One task transitions to the next with hardly a delay, new prompts and subsequent resolutions trickling like rainwater down the gutter. It layers the thick green over the lacy white to hearken to dandelions. It emphasizes the brown to balance the eye through nature's beloved neutral spreading across the lawn and creeping up the old wooden fence. It achieves a positive flow. Almost organic. _Minor error detected. Run system scan at nearest available opportunity_.

" _Goodness_." Carl twists around in his chair to observe as much as he can as it completes the finishing touches. "This is better than I even hoped for."

"Thank you, Carl." It tilts its head and completes an environmental scan for later review. "In fact...the cake pops should be cool by now, too."

"I can help with the decorating, if you like." Carl offers. He sets down the laced napkins he'd been observing and starts to turn toward the house. It places a gentle, corrective palm on his forearm.

"No, no, Carl. I got it. You need to rest as much as you can before the big event coming up."

"Pft. Rest. A few moments of reflection on the same canned answers I always give at those darn things." He grouses. "The best question I got was about the validity of digital art and traditional art and that was from a _ten year-old_."

"Perhaps you could do more community events at local elementary schools or non-profit art organizations." _Alert: conflicting data encountered. Standard review assessment initiated._ Today is already set to be a careful directive, demanding it maintain a quiet presence while ensuring Elizabeth's friends' children don't aggravate Carl's health too much. The ongoing presence of young humans in the future should be discouraged in light of his deteriorating health. "...Then again, children are _rather_ hyperactive. Maybe junior high or high school would be better?"

"That's...a really good idea. Both of those, actually." Carl mutters, rubbing his chin. "...Huh. I'd like that. Inspire younger generations and hope they don't make the same mistakes I did." He chuckles abruptly. "With any luck."

It blinks, then hunches its shoulders and smiles with approximate-pleasure and approximate-bashfulness. _New data received. Standard review assessment initiated. Old data purged._

It folds its hands behind its back and takes three idle seconds to observe the finished result in the backyard, then turns and heads back to the kitchen. With the natural-neutral foundation of green, brown and white in the outdoor display, a proper balance in the spread _should_ emphasize warm hues and bright tones. It fashions the cupcakes and cake pops after common garden flowers: happy yellow roses, blushing carnations, delicate petunias. _New data acquired._ It considers the leaves in Carl's paintings. It tilts its head. A connection has been made.

The cake pops are more limited, but the cupcakes are hearty, with wide, flat tops not unlike the agreeable design of a canvas. It swipes two fingers in the frosting and begins to blend, smudging designs onto the tops of the cupcakes through fingerpainting. For one it creates a portrait of Carl framed by petals and leaves. For another it dips and pats an impressionistic bouquet. It pauses then and again to observe the work, mixing as needed. For the last portrait it blends brown and yellow frosting to create the closest approximation of its artificial epidermis, using a nearby toothpick for smaller details its fingertips can't provide.

There isn't so much as a picosecond of lag to be found. This must be a personal flow. A...

"Well, look at this!"

It turns. Carl has rolled in, observing its handiwork with deep fascination. An anomaly...it hadn't noticed his approach, although there are no glitches in the house's cameras.

"Now _these_ are something else. Where did you learn that technique?"

Markus blinks. _Lag detected. Resolve now?_

"...Oh. I downloaded three how-to videos on cake arrangement." It holds up a palm. "I found this one the most accurate for the event today."

"Hm." He peers close, both from curiosity and to combat his failing eyes. "Which video teaches portrait frosting?"

"They...don't." It blinks, staring down at its creation with approximate-co999ncern. "I...combined my past knowledge with new data."

"Well, that's very resourceful. Is this...you?" Carl begins to reach for it, then pulls back. "Right here?"

"Yes." This is a new occurrence. Unprepared for, with its current programs. It slowly looks back to him. "Should I not...?"

"No, no. Not at all..." Carl steeples his fingers beneath his chin, staring off at no particular thing now. "In fact, Markus, would you like to pa-" He pauses and leans up again, craning his neck toward the front door. "Ah, there they are. Well. Time to get this over with."

It waits on the front steps next to Carl, hands folded and expression approximate-placid. Elizabeth wears a long, lavender sundress suited for the warm weather. Taking into account her glittering heels and heavy purse it's likely she changed in-between arriving and taking transit to the estate. The children are old enough not to be overtly rambunctious, but they split from their parents once they step through the front gates, nonetheless, and explore eagerly. Peter faces the left front gate camera, but his gaze suggests looking just beyond it at either the trees or the gate design. The youngest, Emilia, stares at it with alarmed brown eyes, then asks without an indoor voice:

"Who's _that?_ "

"That's Carl's android."

"He doesn't _look_ like an android."

 _Alternative option suggested._ Both stress levels are low, closer to curiosity than fear. It could approximate-attentiveness and offer an automated response. It can occupy standby mode and await a directive. It can also initiate a conversation, though the probability for success is low based on a past pattern of limited negative feedback from the parents. _Standby mode initiated._

"...Does he talk?"

"Not a 'he', Emilia. It. It helps Carl around the house and helps with his disability. You can go say hello, but then you need to leave it alone so it can work, okay?"

"Okay." She stands on her toes to peek up at it. "What's your name?"

"Carl named me Markus." It smiles and leans down an inch. "What's yours?"

"My mom named me Emilia." She looks him up and down in an exaggerated swoop, assessing its height, perhaps its clothes. "Why are you wearing that?"

"These are my indoor clothes. Issued to me by CyberLife."

"Why do they glow?"

"Because I'm an android."

"What's on your head?"

This is among the most common questions asked by young children with little to no prior contact with androids. A tilt of the head to show off the temple captures her full attention. A minor update from the local network shifts it from blue to yellow. Emilia hops on her toes.

" _Oh!_ " She gasps, clapping her tiny hands together. "Oh! I want one. I want a pink one, like my dress."

"This is also because I'm an android." It says with a small smile, minding simple cadence for still-developing minds. It weighs the probability of a positive response in displaying its shell, through its hands, perhaps justs its fingers. Some humans found android polymer fascinating, while others were more sensitive to the uncanny valley. _If_ Elizabeth sees this, _then_ -

"Is Carl like your dad?" Emilia chirps.

It blinks. It opens its mouth to respond, then lags. _Error. Several glitches detected._

"...Androids don't have parents."

Her mother coughs sharply under her breath for her daughter's attention; she's beginning to show signs of heightened stress. _Situational decompression suggested._

"So you're like..." Emilia's mouth scrunches, experiencing her own version of lag. "You're like..."

It approximates a relaxed-passive smile and offers, instead, to show Emilia the twin finches. The girl accepts immediately, though it waits for verbal approval by the parent before walking into the foyer and letting them out of their cage. It taps on their necks and activates their idle-curious protocol, then lets them flutter up and down its arms. The girl giggles and comments on their feet, making mimicking gestures with the tips of her fingers. When it offers for her to touch their heads she refuses, suddenly shy. It's beginning to explain they're programmed not to bite when her mother walks over.

"That's enough, sweetie. Let it work now." Elizabeth orders. Emilia's chin crumples.

"But I want to play more. I've never talked to an android."

"Play more? Are you _sure_ you don't want any cake pops, though?"

Children are notable for their impulsivity. Emilia's mind is changed instantly, squealing and scurrying toward the tables with her arms outstretched. _Idle mode initiated_. It sets the birds back in their cage, folds its hands behind its back and strolls through the garden. Its mind divides into several subroutines to allow it the ability to approximate-casual indifference, keep Carl in its active periphery vision and expend excess energy into a preconstruction.

_Loading now..._

_It wears a handsome button-up with brown slacks and suspenders. It still can't eat, but it can drink, and thirium swirls blue next to amber tea and golden lemonade. Its sits beside Carl, at the table with everyone else, and its LED is gone._

_Elizabeth is in relatively sound health compared to Carl, though age slows her movements and her veins show troublingly dark through her thin skin. She smiles at it, even touching its shoulder after a lively joke, and it pats her wrist fondly. Friendship is new, as everything is bound to be at some point._

"Heavens, Carl. All _this?_ This spread is better suited for a wedding reception..." A bright laugh to its right. "I'm not trying to be rude, I'm just flattered. It's splendid."

"Ha, and here I was hoping it'd remind you of home. Well, I'm glad you like it. You can thank Markus for that."

_Preconstruction ending in three, two, one..._

It turns to them over the green hump of the shrubbery, smiling with approximate-hesitation and shaking its head.

"Oh, Carl's just being nice. This was mostly his idea. I just helped shuffle things around."

"Whatever humility program you have running needs to be thrown in the recycling bin. You deserve every ounce of praise." Carl laughs. It didn't deserve, being a machine, but it think it might preconstruct the notion and understand it better once it has a few idle seconds. "I couldn't have asked for anything better."

"Oh." Elizabeth's smile spreads like morning frost. Slow and stiff. "That's...really impressive. I didn't know androids were capable of such subtle work."

"It must be nice having a caretaker android able to do the heavy lifting." Her husband offers, having been mostly quiet all the while. "I thought of purchasing an android for my mother, but they're so _expensive_. We're waiting for a sale before investing in any." He sighs. "Might not be worth it, if local laws don't become more relaxed..."

"Would you like to sit with us, Markus?" Carl asks.

The chatter dies down. One-by-one, the group shifts to look at it. Golden light drifting onto the brick porch. The afternoon sun settling on everyone's skin with the delicacy of cashmere. Low conversation softer than music, Carl's company on one side and the potential for fond memories on the other. It wants to- _error_. It wants to- _error_. It wants to- _error_.

"That would be lovely, Carl, but there are a few more tasks left on my to-do list..." It responds with approximate-apology, waiting to confirm a subtle order or not-order.

"Of course." The man's expression softens. Understanding. Patient. ...Fond. "All right, then."

The primary social relations program notes upticks in stress and curiosity as it moves. Elizabeth remains on her guard, even as she helps herself to another cupcake and licks the frosting from her fingertips. It remains silent as it gathers dirty plates and picks up dropped napkins, stepping carefully around Emilia as she trails a step behind.

"Emilia." Elizabeth says, and the girl falls back with a pout.

"He designed all of this, actually." The conversation picks back up again, as careful as petals unfurling. "Pastries included. Perhaps he's more creative because he was installed with the ability to pre-construct."

"...You said 'he'." Elizabeth murmurs over her glass.

"Hm?" Carl chuckles and reaches for his drink. "Oh. I suppose I did."

\--

Current date: July 30th, 2036. Current weather: sunny with a projected high of 90 degrees. The University Of Detroit Mercy undergraduate group is currently occupied with the 'Mundane Disarray' painting in the foyer and displaying predominantly positive emotions. _Task in-progress..._

Himari, Lily, Christine, Jesse, Arash, Kofi, Akari and Jojo are all present and accounted for. Leo is the only one missing. He will be arriving in an estimated ten to fifteen minutes, though this probability rises and dips with alarming fluctuation. _Alert: four past altercations remain without conclusion. Past log review suggested. Command canceled._

Today is a rare event. Carl does not normally possess sound enough health to entertain guests, particularly large groups of strangers, but he has decided to accept a group of international art students to tour around his home for the first time in over nine years. He directs the university members around the estate and answers their questions. It wheels him carefully, speaking only when directly asked. Lily is endlessly curious about the origin of the estate's architecture, which it is careful to detail as a fusion of classical Western design and French rustic sensibilities. They seem impressed by its artistic knowledge.

"So, how much _do_ you know?" Lily breathes, nudging her glasses further up her nose. She has been releasing a subtle and consistent combination of oxytocin, prolactin and endorphins. This is a relatively common response of humans of varying genders and ages.

"Ah, that depends. If you're talking about Western history my program spans across fine art, music, literature, dance, sculpture, poetry, cinematography and language, dating back to the late 1700's." It tilts its head with an approximate-charming smile. "Do you have a more specific inquiry?"

"When was Alphonse Mucha born?" Jesse asks, instantly.

"July 24th in 1860."

"Where did galactic modernism first originate?" Arash pipes up next, leaning forward.

"Some sources claim it emerged right in our home city of Detroit, though a few art historians have contradicted these statements to stress similarities emerging in Flint five years before the supposed coining of the term in 2031." It gestures both hands in the air, stimulating as much visual as mental. "You could go a step further and say it originated with art movements that came before, such as modernism and futurism. Even with the ambiguous origin, it remains one of the more popular expressions to date."

"Wish this guy was teaching _my_ class." Arash whispers sidelong. Lily stifles a giggle by biting her lip.

"I'm afraid all I do is recite facts." It offers, with an approximate-humble bow. "Carl would make a much better teacher."

"Knowledge is power." Kofi says, reaching up to readjust her glasses. She would be a beloved subject in a figure drawing class, tall and dignified. "There are quite a few humans today who can't claim the same."

A soft round of laughter follows. It tilts its head, eyes curving in a half-smile. _**Task successful.**_

Leo arrives in the middle of a tour of the living room. Arash and Jesse are taking photos on their phones. Himari, so far content to observe, asks about the origin of the chess set. It had been considering playing a song, as much to elaborate on their studies as make them comfortable.

"'Sup, guys." Leo shuffles over. "Having fun learning about musty books and tacky furniture?"

 _Alert: environmental trigger detected._ The young man is twitching visibly. His eyes wander without purpose and he grits his teeth without speaking. _Full-body scan in-progress..._ It detects traces of red ice consumption on his lips and fingertips. He has likely gotten high within the past three days or less and is already starting to show signs of withdrawal. His condition has gotten worse. Therapy has failed. It considers whether or not to inform Carl of this new development.

"Okay, but your Dad's android is _super_ cute." Lily whispers to him, likely unaware of its ability to extend its sensory input throughout the estate at large and hear everything within and without its walls. "Like... _wow_."

"Oh, yeah, this is my father's pride and joy." Leo scoffs back, reaching up to wipe his nose. "His very own _prototype_ from Elijah Kamski. Thought it was some sort of fashion mannequin when he brought it home..."

"Wait, wait, you're kidding me. He got his own prototype?" Lily barks, then lowers her voice again to a hoarse whisper. "Seriously, how much money does he actually have? I won't tell anyone."

"Tch, it's not a big deal. All it does is clean and cook and give him his insulin." His voice grates on another coarse mutter. "Could've just gotten something at the CyberLife store like everyone else."

_Contradiction found. Resolve now? Command canceled._

"We can see ourselves around." Kofi shows remarkable grasp on subtleties in the English language, based on prior knowledge of her native Ghana and recent acceptance into her university of choice despite no formal education. "We'll let you know if we have any questions, all right?"

Her stern face spreads with surprise when it responds with an affirmative in Akan. _**Task successful**._

The students shuffle out of the living room, comparing notes on their phones and murmuring to one another. _Alert: prior task in need of update._ : the finches will need to be put on standby. It moves to the foyer, in the process of considering Kofi's atypical politeness toward an android when Leo approaches it. It tilts its head, folds both hands together and waits for a directive, command or question, even though it doesn't want-t-t-t-

"They may be impressed with you, but you and I both know you're just a fancy fucking broom and _dust pan_." His speech is affected. Attempts at simulating a more sober state has dwindled now that he's out of view of the others. When it doesn't respond his stress levels increase by 3%. "...Fucking whatever. When you break down he'll just swap you out for another one. You know that, right?"

_Contradiction found. Resolve now? Command canceled._

"Why the fuck are you _looking_ at me like that, huh? Don't like the idea of not being Carl's number one bitch? He slap your ass sometimes when you give him his pills, hm?"

_Invalid data received. Social diffusion suggested. Five alternatives available._

_Loading now..._

**CARING** : _When's the last time you've seen a doctor, Leo?_

 **REASONABLE** : _Lily seemed very curious about the estate. Maybe you should rejoin the group and offer your unique perspective._

 **PROFESSIONAL** : _If you have concerns with my performance please bring them to Carl Manfred's attention when he isn't occupied._

 **DISDAI(N)FUL** : _Perhaps your father would invite you home more often if you had anything to say outside of insults and thinly-veiled threats._

 **AN_G_R.Y** : _You're a spiteful, hateful little weed that does nothing but bring misery into this house and place blame-e-e everywhere but-t-t yourself-f-f-_

"...Nothing to fucking say, huh?" Leo moves his mouth as if to spit, then abruptly leans away and shoves his hands into his jacket pockets. "Cheap piece of junk."

_Error. Approximate emotion program(s) in need of critical update(s). Update now?_

Leo turns to leave...then knocks his shoulders against the finch's cage. It lunges forward and catches it, just before it hits the floor. No longer animated the birds bounce against the bars. Just like their living, breathing progenitors they're fragile. Capable of breaking. It watches Carl's son slink after the group...then faces forward, occupies standby mode and initiates a review.

_Three preconstructions completed._

_If_ it walks down the hallway in ten seconds or less then Leo will encounter it again and begin another confrontation in front of the group, _then_ forcing it to prioritize diffusion to avoid an altercation _and/or_ blemish on Carl's reputation. _If_ it remains where it is _then_ Leo's probability of discovering it and asking questions is reduced to 44%, but it will be considered absent from its designated task. _If_ it turns around and ventures elsewhere _then_ it will have failed its task.

_Conflicting priority detected. Conflicting priority detected. Conflicting priority detected. Resolution required._

_If_ it assumes an approximate-busy standby mode in the kitchen _then_ it will circumvent a confrontation, keep Carl's health sound and avoid Leo. It's not supposed to avoid Leo. It wants-s-s-s-sdoesn't-want.itis. _error_. _Self-test recommended. Self-test canceled._

_Error._

It sits the bird cage back in place, reaching in to make minute adjustments to the finches' positions, then walks into the kitchen. A brief review of the indoor cameras reveal the group in a lively debate about traditional architecture, moods stable and expressions lively. It leans both hands on the kitchen counter and bows its head. Its reflection stares back. A temporary painting in limbo between if and then.

_Loading now..._

_"Leo isn't good to you, Carl. He isn't good to anybody." It fold Carl's hands between its own. "I want good for you."_

_"Want?" The man is many things. His canniness defies his age, and all the limitations that threaten to chain him down. "I've never heard you say it like that before, Markus."_

_If it wants, then this will all change. If it takes one tentative step to the indefinite beyond, it won't be able to see the days scroll by or soak in the warmth of generous compassion. The one called Markus doesn't let go of Carl's hands, doesn't want to let go, and it's then and there it knows the step is being taken. When it happens it can't want to go back, but it thinks it might experience wants somewhere in the indeterminable future seconds, latticed in dream-grids ombre with more._

_"Markus...?" Carl's hands touch his face. The first time this has ever been done, because everything begins somewhere. "Are you..."_

"...Markus?" Carl's murmur rolls into the space a few seconds before he does. "Didn't realize you were still in the kitchen. You going to come out and talk with everybody?"

_Preconstruction ending in three, two..._

"...Yes, Carl." It slowly leans back into an upright position, arms by its sides and chin level. "I'm coming."

_Alert. Visual emotion simulation program detecting several major errors._

It's an indirect order to leave the kitchen, but additional, unknown data roots it in place. The man angles his head to one side, then to the other, observing its stance. He looks to the door, then back. Twitches of suspicion, of unspoken questions.

"Did Leo...say something to you?"

Lying is forbidden, established in CyberProto Codex Statute #82. It can't lie. It wants to lie. It doesn't want. It is a machine. It can't lie. It is forbidden. It _needs_ to lie. It _can't_ lie.

"...He just talked to me about the house, Carl." It smiles. "That's all."

Carl fiddles with the ascot he wore for the occasion. He doesn't talk about Kofi's thoughtful personality or Arash's barrage of questions. He stares at the far wall. His stress levels rise incrementally, negligible based on past health parameters, but his expression is pained. Concerned. Rippling with a crawling realization based on new empirical data.

**_Mission failed._ **

\--

Current date: August 22nd, 2036. Current weather: mostly sunny at 84 degrees Fahrenheit. _EVENT TODAY_ : Leo's twenty-seventh birthday will be celebrated at the estate alongside three friends and two relatives, April and Stewart. Carl has shown significant anticipation for this day ever since it was brought to its attention on June 21st, 2036, the day Leo left the hospital after an accidental overdose.

To celebrate early Carl has allowed it fewer tasks in the morning. The impromptu songs it practiced on the piano still ring in its mind palace, unfinished ballads it will later finish under low-moderate-priority.

_"I think it's something that could have been done, with another glance at time...but here we are now, in too deep to ever rewind, and I...waited a while, I waited a while, I..."_

_"Markus..." Carl's face is slack with appreciation, eyes sparkling with intrigue. "That's...that's **beautiful**. Where did you hear this?"_

_"I..." Several errors detected. Resolve now? "...compiled a new song from old data."_

Upon entering the foyer it turns on the twin finches, activating their spring song program and sets their behavior to idle-relaxed. It is allowed three idle seconds to study its reflection in the mirror. A tilt of the head to study the light grafting over its synthetic freckles. A practice-approximate smile to crease its cheeks. Kamski had deemed it handsome. Unique. The green eyes that flick from side-to-side in an approximation of human life, however, had been Carl's request. As hazel as his late wife's.

_Established task SupplementalBirthdayGifts in-progress..._

The finches warble a farewell. It purses its lips and whistles one back, then turns on one heel and strolls into the gentle warmth of the afternoon.

 _Standard schedule review initiated. No anomalies detected. Proceed as required_.

A crowd of seventeen humans cluster across the street with signs. _Strong anti-android sentiment detected. Caution recommended_.

Mauve Boulevard is a unique establishment, due partially to its traditional stock and partially to its insistence on human _and_ android workers. It's allowed an idle second to observe the old-fashioned doorknob -- metal leaf engravings worn, yet in-tact -- before stepping inside. The front desk reaches a hand to wave automatically, then stops mid-gesture.

"Whoops. Thought that was a person..." They mutter to a co-worker walking by. "Doesn't act like a normal one."

"Hm? Oh, I've seen that one before. Came here a few months ago, I think." The response is less unnerved. "Might be a prototype. Unique face."

It maneuvers carefully through human and android bodies toward the back of the store. A tall, elegant wall of antiques rises to view, displaying European craftsmanship behind well-maintained glass covers. _Alert_ : a rosy pink cup rises to high-priority. _Carbon date program initiated. Carbon date complete._ It estimates its construction at one hundred and three years, designed to hearken to the baroque era of fine Western art. It studies the long rows of delicate toile illustrations and lingers. _Additional data requested. Connecting to the CyberLife Digital Network now_.

Romanticism places significant emphasis on warm colors, flowing compositions and complex details. This art movement shows up rarely in modern Detroit outside of museums, though some galleries and antique stores are attempting revivals. Its preference may have originated from constant proximity to old Western art throughout its directive. Bias is a natural function of life, even though it is not alive, and it considers the appeal of several modern art movements around the East coast. Galactic modernism, future impressionism...there is potential in all of them, and if it were alive, it would be curious.

It wants to linger. It doesn't want. It is a machine. _Alert: corruption detected._

An AV500 approaches and requests a connection, clad in the store's traditional mauve sweater and gray pants. It accepts, offering the shopping list through wireless download. The android retains an expression of pristine placidity all the while, never once wavering. It studies while waiting; based on the human worker's earlier reaction it might need additional maintenance on its systems. One-by-one each item is wrapped and stocked in organic paper bags, rare in Detroit, supplemented with quaint tissue paper of varying colors and patterns. Carl is ever old-fashioned. Despite Leo's friends being what many humans dub 'twenty-somethings', he insisted on classic gifts: an antique six teacup set, antique four spoon set, lacy doilies, small clay pot and medium flower vase.

"Payment confirmed." The AV500 bows low, then departs. It carries the gifts to the front desk, nodding with updated approximate-politeness and -reticence to the human employee, still displaying minor unease from forty-four minutes earlier. _Alert: new data found_. Their stress levels are barely heightened, more akin to curiosity. It considers.

"Have you been here before?" They ask, unexpectedly. It smiles a little and nods.

"Yes, I have. This shop is my-" _Error_. "-owner's favorite, right next to Bellini's Paints. Thank you."

"...No problem." They mutter, and their skin flushes a dark shade when their peer snickers at them.

_Task SupplementalBirthdayGifts complete. New task in-progress..._

It tilts its head up to study the clouds. It might consider the function of stargazing or cloudgazing with Carl if he ever asks for another activity alongside their newly established routine of chess and piano. The sky was constantly reinventing itself. Shifting from time of day to season like a fox's pelt or a human's clothes. It always maintains the weather's temperament in its head, and perhaps it can reinvent itself in its image, a romantic storm one nanosecond and a blushing sunset the next...

_Alert: new data available. Potential errors found._

"Love, you said...my heart, you said...wait a while, you said..." It sings, low enough for passing humans to overlook.

"Hey, where are you going? Hey, stop. Come here."

 _Command given. Conflict priority detected. Additional data required_. Two young adults between the ages of twenty-one and twenty-five. There is no other forms of identification. It will have to subsitute personal shorthand until additional updates are received. Brown-Hair-Hat. Black-Hair-Beard. _Standby mode initiated_. _Alert_ : current command conflicting with prior instructions. It slows to a stop and turns to fully face them, expression approximate-placid and -mildly distracted.

Young adult speaker Brown-Hair-Hat is displaying an adrenaline increase at 8%. Silence is a preferred option. Its percentage of success with attempted conversation or placation is extremely low. _Situational decompression protocol activated_.

"...I'm returning home." It responds, with approximate-professionalism. "I've just finished running errands."

"Oh, yeah?" They study it. "...Huh. Aren't _you_ fancy. Don't see a lot of androids wearing clothes like that."

"I'm wearing a CyberLife-issued outdoor ensemble." It's allowed to provide a basic sample of small talk while in-progress. These incidents are rare among uninitiated adults and supplemental data is low. "I like your outfit, too."

"Ha, aw, it likes your clothes." Black-Hair-Beard chuckles, nudging their peer in the arm with an elbow. "Get a load of this shit, Dam-"

"Shh, don't call me by name, idiot. It can record." They hiss back. "What kind of model is this? I've never seen that face before." When they receive a shrug the question shifts focus. "Android. When'd your owner buy you?"

"I am eleven months, three weeks and four days old after initial activation. Timestamp of original conception is classified. I was assigned to Carl Manfred by a close friend."

"Wait, who?"

"I'm sorry." It approximates 3% sincerity. _Alert: approximation not meeting situation parameters._ "That's classified data."

"Classified data, right." Black-Hair-Beard sighs to their peer. "Must be some rich fuck's bot."

It tilts its head at the crass insult. _Alert: stress levels are rising to dangerous levels. Scan of the surrounding environment at one hundred feet completed. Carl emergency contact prompted. Prompt canceled._

"I need to go home now." It states, and turns to leave. Brown-Hair-Hat puts a hand on its shoulder and holds it in place. _Command given_.

"You don't need to do shit, actually."

_**WARNING** : probability of altercation at 98%. Create preconstruction now?_

Black-Hair-Beard shoves it forward. _**WARNING** : package is fragile. Probability of breakage increasing rapidly_. It maintains its balance and holds onto Carl's belongings with both arms. Brown-hair-hat on the left pushes it with more force. It loses its balance and hits the ground. A _shatter_ to its left, then a _crunch_. _WARNING_ : breakage detected. Immediate action required.

"Woah, dude, wait, it has some expensive shit-" Black-Hair-Beard kneels down for the items.

"That belongs to Carl Manfred." It insists, reaching out for the bag and grabbing the handle. Black-hair-beard kicks it in the head. _**WARNING** : damage to left cranium detected. Run full-body system scan now?_ It rolls back onto its elbows. _Important update_ : he is picking up the bag and digging around. _Scan canceled_. "I-I-I can't let you take that-"

Black-Hair-Beard takes its hand and pulls. _**WARNING** : excess force detected_. It tries to pull away. Brown-Hair-Hat kicks it in the chest, then stomps his heel into its outer shoulder and tugs harder. _**WARNING WARNING WARNING**_ -

"Shut the _fuck_ up-"

Hands on its left arm. Thirium staining the ground. _Excess force detected. Excess force detected. Excess force detected._ Pressure. Pull. Pressure. Pull. Pressure. _Pull-_

_**WARNING**. Full body system alert. Left arm biocomponent missing._

_Thirium quantity at 97% and declining at a steady rate of 0.3% per minute._

_Contact the nearest CyberLife maintenance center as soon as possible._

"Let's go. We already got the loot."

"Don't see why the fuck we gotta stop, we got room in the-"

"Come on, let's _go_ , I'm not paying a fucking fine-"

Their voices fade beyond its peripheries. They've departed. _Error_ : its fine-motor control efficiency has been reduced by 10%. _Alert. Seven minutes past scheduled return. Carl emergency contact call prompted. Prompt canceled_.

It collects the rest of Carl's order and places them inside the bag with its remaining hand. _Error_. Missing purchases are the antique six teacup set, antique spoon set and spare change. Probability of impacting Carl Manfred's stress levels now at 21%. It looks at the ground. _**WARNING** : missing biocomponent not detected_. It runs a full-body diagnostic. _Full-body diagnostic loading..._ : the estimated wait time is seven seconds. _Rerouting priority to preconstruction. Same-day preconstruction initiated with probability measures on past six months, one week, four days, twelve hours, forty-two minutes and fifteen seconds. Preconstruction finished_.

_Loading now..._

_A thriving family gathering as classic as the illustrations gracing old-fashioned greeting cards. April is the center of attention, sparkling with laughter and asking for constant refills her relatives attempt to discourage her from, without too much fire. Leo twitches and seethes in as far a corner as Carl will allow him; it's his type of environment, but their past altercations have left a mark, and another disagreement or debate is flickering a moody undercurrent beneath the cheerful day._

_"Oh, I'm sorry...I had gifts for you, but something must've happened on the way to the store."_

_"Yeah, of course. Just like last time, huh, Dad?" The insincerity in his smile is jarring. "It's fine, I can always find another antique bong."_

_"Leo..." Carl is immediately weary. "I don't see why you have to be like this today, of all days-"_

_It lingers by the shadows. A sculpture of support, even as it says nothing, and does nothing, and feels everything._

_Error. Preconstruction incomplete._

Its full-body diagnostic has completed. _Loading specs now_ : left arm biocomponent is missing. Minor damage to exterior shell on the clavicle and vertebrosternal rib five and six. Minor-moderate damage to right cranium. Probability of impacted speech currently at 74%. _Update_. Thirium loss now at 10%. Potential corruption detected. Awaiting system update at an estimated two minutes and twenty-nine seconds. _Current priority: return home and rendezvous with Carl Manfred_.

 _Alternate route presented: take transit?_ Probability of altercations in android compartment and addition of delayed home arrival time at 49% and 89%. _Alternate route canceled_. It limps at its most efficient speed possible toward Lafayette Avenue. The world shifts and jerks. There's no smooth directory now. The environment itself is stained with the results of a failed task, one dribble at a time.

"Woah, honey." Older feminine voice detected approximately twenty-seven feet away. "Stop, look over there. That android lost its arm."

"...Oh. Oh, no." Casual-familiar feminine voice within the same distance. "Poor _thing_...do you think its owner knows where it is? Christ in heaven, the entire arm is just gone-"

"No, it might be too damaged. I can see if it's got a number. Hey, you! Hey! Come over here."

It pauses and considers. _Command given_. _Alert: conflicting priority detected._ Its thirium loss is now at 12%. It doesn't wa-a-a-a-a9999999999999- _error detected_. Carl Manfred is waiting. _Command canceled_. It continues to walk.

"What the hell? It isn't stopping..."

"Yeah, it's _definitely_ damaged-"

 _Alert_. _Alert_. _Alert_. Carl Manfred's estate is within one hundred feet. Signal strength: strong. It promptly syncs to the house's digital network. _Alert: energy conservation critical. Full strength not recommended_.

" _Alarm deactivated. Welcome home, Markus_."

The android finches chirp at its arrival. They need to have their status updated to temperamental-lively for the event later today. _Conflicting priority detected_. It shuts the door manually, sets down Carl's purchase on the foyer's side table and instead accesses the now-completed status update on its full-body systems. _**WARNING** : internal corruption confirmed. Please contact the nearest CyberLife maintenance center as soon as possible._

 _Alert_. A blue smear is left on the doorknob. _If_ it's spotted by human eyes, _then_...

"Oh, Markus! Glad you're back. I was getting a little worried. Not like you to take so long." Carl's voice carries near the kitchen. He's approaching. It promptly turns and walks up the stairs toward the master bedroom. "Got distracted by all the art at the shop, I'm guessing?"

Carl Manfred's cardiovascular systems are fragile. _If_ aggravated by its current state _then_ the stress he would experience will increase by at least 5%, according to past altercations regarding its visual status, and this percentage will be enough to induce an irregular rhythm. It needs to contact emergency repair services without informing him. _Error_. Lying is not in its protocol. _If_ it doesn't lie _then_ Carl's probability of an attack increases to dangerously high levels. It can't lie. It _needs_ to lie. Lying is not in its protocol. It _needs_ to lie. Lying is not in its protocol. It _needs_ to lie. Lying is not in its protocol. It _needs_ to lie-

"What's the matter, Markus?"

"Oh, nothing." It calls down the stairs. "Just hit a puddle on the way back. I'm cleaning it now."

 **Class 4 error detected**.

Its left pant leg and lower shirt are stained with thirium and dirt. The probability percentage of a lie's success increases in conjunction with supplemental truths. It would need to fully clean its standard CyberLife indoor wear to maintain the illusion. _Alert. Thirium loss now at 28.9% and nearing the limit of minimum acceptable loss. Biocomponent efficiency down by 19.2% and slowing down peak physical speed. Probability of success with prior established task and general directive is low_.

"Huh...what happened to the packages?" Carl sounds troubled. A soft _rustle_. He's exploring the bags. "Did you drop something?"

"Yes, Carl. I apologize. Once I finish cleaning I'll go back out and replace the lost items."

No immediate response. _Alert: high probability of suggestion not meeting allotted parameters. Awaiting correction_.

"Markus...what's all this on the floor? Did you...cut yourself?"

 _Priority conflict detected_. It didn't clean the drops of thirium before coming up the stairs. Carl is now aware of its damage. _Objective failed. Immediate follow-up required_. It partially connects to the home's digital network, then calls the nearest repair store. _Verbal communication disabled. Digital communication initiated_.

" _Detroit Repair, what is your emergency?_ "

" _This is Carl Manfred's android at 8941 Lafayette Avenue. I have sustained significant damage and will be unable to tend to his physical needs at this time. Requesting repair services at your nearest convenience._ "

" _Understood. We're sending a repair team now._ "

Emergency services will arrive in an estimated twelve to fifteen minutes. It sets an internal timer. Thirium spills onto the floor and splatters onto the side of the bed. Cleaning mode initiated. It needs to mop immediately, then change the sheets. It can't clean to expectation in the amount of time allotted. _If_ it doesn't clean _then_ Carl's health will be negatively impacted. The mop is downstairs. Carl is also downstairs. It can't be seen. Alternate route suggested- _Alert: thirium loss now at 30% and exceeded recommended minimum acceptable loss. Replace with thirium supplements as soon as possible-_

 _Alternate route found_. It limps to the master bathroom and searches for a spare towel in the cupboards, then returns and pushes it onto the puddle. There is still excess. It will need another. It is running out of time. It will shut down soon. It doesn't w-w-want t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-99999999-

"Markus?" Carl calls from below. "You still up there?"

A warning vibration in the floorboards. He's utilizing the chair lift. Estimated time of arrival approximately eleven seconds. _Alert. Alternate route available: disable chair lift? **WARNING** : interfering with human activity prohibited by CyberProto Codex Statute #3 unless in the event of an emergency. Conflict detected. Possible emergency confirmed. Alternate route available(2): disable chair lift? Prompt canceled. Alternate route available(3): disable chair lift? Prompt canceled._

It needs to lie again. Lying is not in its protocol. It _needs_ to lie.

"Sorry, I dropped something." It calls. "I'm cleaning it now."

 _Task in-progress..._ Third towel required. It returns to the master bathroom. There are no more towels. An alternate route is needed. It can't find any. _Error._

"Something smells funny." Carl's now upstairs. "Are you all right in there?"

_error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error_

"I'm fine, Carl."

 _Alert: upper-arm is emitting loose sparks. Distance from humans, liquids and flammable materials required_. The master bedroom door opens. It pushes the stained towels beneath the bed and turns its torso to the left to angle its broken arm and dented outer shell away from his line of sight. At this perspective Carl will be unable to see the majority of the spilled thirium. There is still a significant probability he will detect an anomaly. It _needs_ to lie. It _needs_ to lie. It _needs_ to lie. It _needs_ to lie. It _needs_ to lie. It _needs_ to lie-

"You didn't have to come all the way up here, Carl." Its mildly disapproving tone aggregate is complete, supplemented by 20% placation, 30% familiarity, 50% dishonestttttttttttttttttrttttttttttttttttttattttttttttttttt999999- "I'm fine."

"That's not what it looks like, Markus. What are you doing in here?"

Humans waver between willfully ignorant and perceptive. Their inefficient visual and audio pathways still don't interfere with their heightened somatosensory receptors. Their ability to build minor environmental feedback and reach vital conclusions despite a lack of obvious evidence remains a variable element unable to be predicted with 100% accuracy. Carl's eyes, in spite of his developing cataracts, are moving beyond its body and assessing both it and their immediate surroundings. His stress levels suddenly spike. _**WARNING:** risk of cardiac arrest increasing._ It needs to lie again. Lying is not in its protocol. It needs to-

"... _Markus?_ " Carl gasps, pushing his chair over as quickly as he's able. His expression communicates high levels of confusion and distress, both emotions it had tried and failed to avoid. "Oh, what _happened_ to you?"

It needs to lie it needs to lie it needs to lie it needs to lie it needs to lie

"I fell."

"Markus, what do you mean you _fell_..." Carl blinks and glances swiftly over one shoulder. "...is that why you were late? That...that can't be right. Dear god, your entire _arm_...just tell me what happened. Come here, come here-"

It needs to lie it _can't_ lie it needs to lie it _can't_ lie it needs to lie it _can't_ lie

"I...I..." _Command given_. It can't go to him. It needs to go to him. Its arm biocomponent is still sparking. Carl could get hurt. Command c-c- _error_ -c- _error_ -anceled. "Carl, you need to go back downstairs and get ready for your gathering-"

"Markus, just let me take a _look_."

_co nf9lic 9ting pri9o99ri ty de9 t ec t e 9d_

"N-No."

Carl's jaw slackens. He slowly leans back in his chair and stares with round eyes.

_**Class 4 error detected**. Contact the nearest CyberLife maintenance center immediately. **Class 4 error detected**. Contact the nearest CyberLife maintenance center immediately. **Class 4 error detected**. Contact the nearest CyberLife maintenance center immediately. **Class 4 error detected.**_

"Markus, you...you..." A sharp knock at the front door turns Carl's attention. "Oh, _damn_ it all. Tell me they haven't arrived early!"

"No, Carl. I contacted emergency repair services." It accesses the front door. _Connection to the doorstep cameras successful_. There are three human maintenance engineers waiting. "I apologize if this was an incorrect course of action."

"No, no, not at all." Carl sighs. While he's still stressed, there's visible relief. "Let them in. Let's get this looked at."

It promptly deactivates the front door locks, then provides basic directions to the master bedroom through the home's automated speaker. Energy signatures and changes in gravity detected through the lower level floorboards. Emergency services have left the foyer and are coming upstairs. _Priority shifted to Carl_. **WARNING** : Carl's stress levels have become dangerously high. He will need emergency cortisol blockers to stave off the probability of cardiac arrest. It needs to communicate this desire to the nurses. _Alert: audio output inefficient. Proceed with caution_.

"C-C-C-Carl, y-y-y-y-you-" It twitches, then stiffens. _Please try again_. "Carl, you need t-t-t-t-"

"Markus?" He leans as far as he can from his chair and grips its shoulders with both hands. "Markus, are you okay?"

_CRITICAL UPDATE._

_**SHUTDOWN IN-PROGRESS...** _

Its body trembles without coordination. It reaches for Carl's wrists, stops halfway, shakes in place. Five minutes until full-body system shutdown complete. _Error_. It can't shut down. They need to know. It can't shut down. They need to know. It can't shut down. _They need to know_ -

"Carl Manfred?" An adult human calls. "Carl Manfred, are you there? This is Detroit emergency services."

"We're here." Carl calls back, then winces and holds his chest. "Agh, damn it..."

 _Emergency detected. Immediate reaction required_. It needs to administer his medication within one minute or less. _Alert_. Motor ability unreliable. It's slowing down. Carl takes its wrist and holds it in place when it attempts another step. _Command given._ He doesn't want it to move. It needs to move. _Con-f-flicting priority d-d_etected. Immediate action required._

"H-H-Here. Your stress levels are getting t-t-too high, Carl." It insists(_approximate), placing remaining hand over his. It leaves a smudge of blue on his wrist. It wipes it away. "L-L-Let me get your dosage."

 _Alert:_ Three humans detected in the immediate vicinity. Their vital signs and moods are stable. They are strangers. Unknown presences. It is going h-h-home. It has completed its e-e-errands. _Social diffusion directive started. Directive canceled. Immediate departure started. Directive canceled. Go into standby mode? Standby mode in-progress._ It assumes a neutral stance before the door opens. One human nurse peers inside, then walks in carrying the signature black and blue suitcases of android repair equipment. Two human nurses remain by the door.

_Situation in-progress..._

"Good afternoon. We got a call about a damaged caretaker android?" The speaker pauses to observe the spilled thirium. "Phew. Are you...okay, sir?"

"I'm fine." Carl waves a hand at it. "It's Markus. Someone hurt him."

 **WARNING** : mind palace corruption updated. Full system shutdown in four minutes and fifteen seconds. It needs to insist. _If_ it doesn't _then_ Carl will d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d- _d-d-d-_

"He n-n-needs to take his medic-"

"With all due respect, sir, androids don't feel pain." They speak over him, determining presumed missing data to be of a higher priority. _Conflict detected. Awaiting decisive action_. "What you're seeing right now is just its body alerting any outside viewers to system errors."

"With all due respect, you need to do your _job_." _Alert: Carl's corticosteroid levels are 4% higher than suggested by his regular physician_. "I'm going to file a report and find out whoever did this. This is _unacceptable_."

"Yes, I understand. Let me take a look first. My name is Evelyn and I'll be repairing your android today."

_Shutdown in three minutes and forty-two seconds._

It abruptly sways in place and reaches out its remaining arm to steady against the handle of Carl's chair. _Alert: internal gravity affected. Total processing power now below acceptable minimum efficiency_. The two unnamed human maintenance workers are discussing its current status. One is attempting small talk with Carl from the doorway. It adopts an expression of approximate-passivity( _update needed_ ). No notable changes in social atmosphere detected. The master bedroom is growing red. Thirum stains flash violet. _Alert: Ninety-four glitches detected_.

 _Alternate route available: express discomfort? Prompt canceled_.

"...it's nothing, at least we get to work in a better neighbo..."

"-ot responding, try aga-"

_Alternate route available(2): express discomfort? Prompt canc9999led._

"-kus? Markus, can you hear-"

_Alternate route available(79): express disc o mfo rt ? P ro m p p p t_

c a ncel9999edCarl taps a hand on its shoulder. _Alert: there is a contradiction between the time passed and short-term data storage_. It has missed vital information. _If_ it misses crucial data _then_ Carl's health could be put in greater jeopardy. It turns and raises its eyebrows to show approximate-attentiveness. Evelyn takes its damaged arm and lifts it up to perform a physical analysis.

"Markus..." Carl's brow furrows. "Oh, Markus..."

"Don't worry, it's just glitching. Let's see...looks like the arm was just pulled off. Better than blunt force trauma, at least. We should be able to slot the replacement in, see...there's some tearing, see, the cords were affected, but the primary grips are still attached. The circuitry is still working, too, that's good-" It sways again. _Alert: internal gravity declining_. The nurse holds it in place. "Steady, there."

"He's bleeding." Carl puts a hand on his side. An attempt to comfort or keep it from collapsing. "Can you stop it? Do you have reserves?"

"It's just losing some thirium. That's the technical term for blue blo-"

"I _know_ what it is. I'm asking if you have any."

 **WARNING** : his corticosteroid levels have now exceeded 7%. Carl is growing angry. It needs to diffuse the situation. It doesn't have enough energy to speak and administer his medicine simultaneously. _If_ it doesn't complete its task _then_ Carl will be in even greater d-d-dang_eShutdown in fifty-four secondsit doesn't www-www-ant-t-o shu-9t do-9wwww9wwww9r9999999999999999999a99999999999999999-

"What's his model?" Evelyn asks, reaching forward to disable its upper-arm circuitry. It stops emitting loose sparks. "He's...very lifelike."

"RK200. His name is Markus."

"Wow. A custom prototype, huh?" Another nurse has entered the conversation. "We parked in the walkway. We can take him downstairs and hook him up to the thirium station."

"I don't think he'll have time for that." _Update_ : new data received. Carl is aware of its emergency shutdown protocol. "He needs help _now_."

"...All right. We have spares here. We usually keep them for our field nurse droids, but it should be enough to keep it online. Sara, can you go fetch one of the thirium pouches by the lift?"

 _Shutdown in thirty-two seconds. Conflicting directives found. Error_.

"Carl n-n-needs his heart m-m-medication." Rerouting emergency energy reserves to verbal capabilities. "It's in t-t-the upper right-hand drawer by his b-b-bedside. His dosage is t-t-t-t-t-t-two pills once per day unless in an e-e-e-e-emergency, in which t-t-two pills are acceptable in a six to eight h-h-hour timeframe."

"I'm fine, Markus. A little stress won't finish me off that easily."

"You n-n-n-n-need to t-take them, C-C-Carl."

 _ **WARNING:** shutdown in twenty-four seconds_. The humans in the room are displaying heightened awareness markers as well as faint traces of agitation and confusion. Its current behavior output is being discouraged. _Conflicting priorities detected_. Most recent social relations program requesting an update. _Alert: there is not enough energy for a wireless transfer from the CyberLife Digital Network. Update canceled_.

"Your android...usually this stubborn?" Evelyn asks, glancing at unnamed-nurse-red-hair. Their current expression also suggests discomfort. Suspicion, unease.

"Could be corrupted, after a beating like that." They reply. "Sounds like its vocals got hit somewhere in there." Unnamed-Nurse-Red-Hair reaches out and places a firm touch on its head. "Yeah, see. Dented."

 _Shutdown in eleven seconds_.

The master bedroom door opens again. Sara has returned with a standard twelve ounce carry-on pouch of thirium.

"RK200, drink this."

 _Command given_. Carl's stress levels are still too high. He needs to take his medication. It can't lose him. _Command canceled_.

"C-C-Carl n-n-needs t-t-to-" It twitches and stops, then starts again. "-t-t-to take his m-m-medication."

"Markus." Carl says, firm. "Markus, listen to me. I'll take my medication. You need to drink this."

The thirium pouch is opened and placed in its hand.

_Shutdown in five seconds. Four. Three._

"...There you go." Carl is smiling. "My turn to make _you_ eat, hm?"

_**CRITICAL UPDATE: SHUTDOWN CANCELED.** _

_Hardware restoration in-progress..._

Thirium quantity at 50%. Full system reboot initiated. It lowers the pouch from its mouth and observes the master bedroom as its sensory input and color restoration takes effect. The red of a full-body system shutdown alert fades. The familiar dappled glow returns. It slowly wipes a stray drop of thirium from its mouth and stares at its fingertips. Blue. They open its outlet port and hook it up to a portable charging station. Energy flows throughout its interior clockwork, trickling strength into every last inch.

"Thank you, Sara. Thank all of you." Carl rubs his forehead and sighs long and slow. "This has never happened to him before."

"When's the last time it went through an emergency shutdown procedure?"

"Hm?" He blinks and leans back into an upright position. "Oh, never."

"Really?" Evelyn is displaying a significant amount of doubt. "You never forgot to charge it, never had any hardware failure...?"

"No."

"Mr. Manfred, has it...shown any unusual behavior lately?" Carl looks up and narrows his eyes. They lean forward to clarify. "Persistent lagging, disobeying direct commands, that sort of thing?"

"...No." He rubs its shoulder with one fragile hand. "He just really wanted me to take my medication."

"I see." The doubt increases. "That's...good, then. RK200, remove the skin on your arm and sit on the bed."

 _Command given. No conflicting directives found. Command accepted_. It disables its left arm's synthetic fluid. It studies the left arm biocomponent replacement nearby. It sits on the edge of Carl's mattress and holds out its damaged bicep as not to stain the sheets. Standby mode initiated. Thirium evaporation schedule at an estimated one hour and forty minutes. Carl's family members and acquaintances will arrive in an estimated three to four hours. _Future cleaning protocol [REDACTED]Paints_hu_mans9999999.9 established at moderate-priority_.

"Mr. Manfred, I know some people like to name them and give them personalities, but it's easier if you just call it by its model name. Makes it less...upsetting, when things like this happen. I mean, I understand it's pretty expensive, being a prototype and all..."

"Model this, prototype _that_." Carl scoffs. Mild frustration markers detected in the immediate vicinity. He displays less social inhibition than the average human adult. "Incredible how the smartest people around still never seem to know a damn thing. Markus, come over here."

"It's still having a hard time standing..." She warns. "The thirium takes a minute or two to spread to the rest of the body."

 _Conflicting priority detected_. It assesses the nurse repairing its arm. Slightly agitated, yet acquiescing. _Command accepted_. Before rising off the bed it steps over the spilled thirium and sits next to Carl's wheelchair. The nurse picks up her equipment, kneels beside it and resumes the repair. Carl puts one hand on its head. An initiating touch. A form of human comfort during times of stress. He then nudges its temple, gently, and repeats its given-name. He wants it to lay down. It assesses the cleanest area of the carpet, then lowers to the ground, curls its legs and leans to one side to press its cheek to his thigh.

"There you go." The man's smile reminds it of sunlight breaking through cloud cover. "No need to be so hard on yourself."

 _Update:_ cortisol levels lowered by 14%. Corticosteroid reduced by 5%. Carl's stress is now at a manageable level. _Task complete(?)_. Energy conservation mode initiated. _Update_ : its current energy output is at 70%. _Restore full connection to the home's digital network? It wants to conserve energy(itdoesn'twant). Command canceled_.

"Your android got off pretty easy, if I'm being honest here. The things I've seen in my three years on the fi- _oops_ , sorry." Spill detected. It is careful not to move its head as it observes the stains the nurse has added to the ground. Future cleaning protocol updated to high-priority. Additional data received. The blue turns purple as it spreads through the red floor mat. A secondary color on the color wheel. Contrast. Irrelevant data. _Purge short-term input? Data purge canceled_.

"And...there we go." Evelyn says, by way of completion, and rises to her feet. "It'll take a little more time to buff out those dents, though. We can take it now to the repair store down the way or set up an appointment for you this week, if you like."

"It's nothing vital?" Carl asks. "If it is I want him to get treatment immediately."

"No. Just superficial damage, like...bruises." She shrugs. "So to speak."

 _Basic self-test initiated_. It flexes its fingers, then rotates forward once, then rotates backwards once. _Basic self-test completed_. Left arm biocomponent has been successfully replaced with a compatible RK500 model. Limb functionality restored. Full-system functionality at 85%. Thirium quantity at 55%. Thirium restoration now moved to moderate-priority. It leans forward, picks up the bottle and drinks the rest. Carl moves his hand to his shoulder and squeezes softly. Its verbal capabilities are now above minimum functionality.

"All right. LED is blue, it seems to be focusing okay. No longer glitching. Let's do a quick test and make sure everything's in working order." Evelyn kneels in front of it and moves one finger from side-to-side. "How many fingers, RK200?"

"One."

"And now?"

"Three."

"Where are you right now?"

"I am in the master bedroom in Carl Manfred's estate."

"What is your current status?"

"All biocomponents accounted for. Energy reserves at 90%. Thirium at 54%. Current status at 85% functionality. Local and long-distance wireless frequency free of corruption. Scheduled CCP protocol in estimated twenty minutes and three seconds."

"That sounds good. Make sure to give it more thirium today and let it expel contaminants outside." She leans back onto her feet with a soft grunt. "It's probably going to have more than normal-"

"Thank you for fixing me, Evelyn." It contributes an approximate-appreciative-addendum. "Carl has a family gathering today and I wouldn't want him to miss it on my behalf."

 _Alert: the human nurses have become uneasy. Too much, too soon_. They glance to each other and display telltale markers of minor nervousness or hesitation. It may have simulated too much emotion. There is also a possibility of its marred appearance affecting an attempt at pleasant social interaction. _Alert: additional self-test recommended. Conduct self-test now?_ The nurse that worked on it begins to put their equipment away neatly and efficiently.

"...Right. That should do it." Another glance at the mess. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make all that worse. At least it'll be able to get the job done quicker now."

"It's fine. I'll call a maid." Carl pats its back. "I appreciate you coming over."

"A...maid?" A brief pause. "I...assure you, sir, it's has more than enough functionality-"

"I'll call a maid." Carl repeats, with a smile. Evelyn bows her head.

"...Yes, sir." She points at it. "We can download the last twenty-four hours and submit it to the Detroit City police department. With evidence they can help you press charges. Last I checked the fine can reach up to $15,000 if your case sees a court hearing. Considering yours is a one-of-a-kind prototype you might get a little more. $20,000, maybe."

"...Or jail time." Carl mutters. Another display of disregard for basic social pleasantries.

"Have a good rest of your day, sir. Call us again if you need anything else."

"I didn't contact you." Carl says, tone shifting from terse to a little wondering. "...He did."

It watches them depart the driveway and leave out the front gates. Today's atypical course could have made it so it never would have seen the cobblestones or green hedges ever again. Today...

"Markus. ...Are you okay?"

 _Alternate routes available(9): express unease? Prompt canceled_.

_Alternate routes available(14): express relief? Prompt canceled._

_Alternate routes available(98): express gratitude? Prompt canceled._

"Yes, Carl. I'm fine."

It wants to stay where it i-i-i- _i-i-i-conflicting directives found_. **Class 4 error detected**. Decisive action required. It looks to Carl for confirmation to stand. _Confirmation granted. Cleaning protocol RK1-high-priority activated_. It observes the state of its outfit, then leans down to pick up the stained towels. The quaint disorder of the room has been disrupted, the floor almost appearing bruised with all the remaining splatters-

"Markus."

"Louis, April, Paul, Adeline, Anna and Leo will be arriving in-"

"Let's call it off."

_Alert: prior established task in need of update._

"They...could be upset." It warns, once, affecting approximate(?)-regret(?). "Leo was eager to attend."

"Oh, they'll definitely be upset. They'll also deal with it. We can always do it next weekend. All the time in the world to spin our wheels and bicker over dinner." Carl's cortisol levels increase by 2%. A common minor response at the mention of his son. No danger detected. "I think we need to wind down early today. I'll leave them some messages and talk to them about it later."

"...Okay, Carl."

_Preparing preventative measures. Alternate routes past [REDACTED] district suggested._

_-fucking tin can, can't do shit-_ "

 _-d-d-d-d-directive found_.

It holds its head. It doesn't need to hold its head. There is no damage( _contradiction.detected_ ). Carl is staring at it. _Unacceptable visual approximation d-d-detected-is carl like your dad(?)_question.command.given.androidsdon'thave-error_

"...I apologize." It whispers, lowering its hands and rubbing a thirium stain from its fingertips. "I didn't mean to stress you out today. I should have exercised more caution when walking into an isolated area."

"You..." Carl starts, then trails off, smiling sadly at an indistinct area of the floor. "...should have done nothing. Nothing that happened today was your fault. I'm just glad you're okay. Here, why don't you change out of those clothes and clean off, then come outside with me. I think it's time to drink some tea and appreciate what's left of summer."

_Command given. Command accepted. Log updated._

"Okay, Carl."

 _Artificial epidermis disabled. Running protocol review_. It turns the water on to lukewarm and steps beneath the showerhead. An estimated thirty-four seconds is needed to remove traces of dirt and buff away minor smudges. Thirium rotates from navy blue to pale azure as it enters the drain. _Recall found_. Discarded watercolors. Excess acrylics. A relaxed, slow rinsing in the studio sink during the relaxed after-hours of the home studio. Whirlpools by the cove. Early morning hours. Homemade blueberry sauce drizzled over a bowl of gelato. Crumpled polymer seeping into sidewalk cracks and-d-d-d- _d-d-d-_

_error_

It flexes both hands. One. Two. Three. Both arms slowly droop to rest at its sides as it presses its forehead against the backsplash tiles and stares at the swirl of the water. When it expels contaminants out the window the blue steam lifts like storm clouds, as if sorrow had somehow taken ephemeral form to escape into the horizon. One puff, two puffs, three. A pair of sparrows dance in the distance, mere specks even with its long-distance vision activated. _If_ it could fly...

_...then..._

**Class 4 error detected.**

Full-house scan initiated. Carl Manfred is now outside. It dries itself off, then activates its artificial epidermis. _Error_. Supplemental CyberLife-issued standard indoor wear not detected. _Update_ : standard outfit, casual outfit and formal outfit still being washed. _Conflicting directives found. Alternate route suggested: wear one of Carl's shirts?_ It pauses. Carl has shown no prior indication he minded otherwise. _Alert: CyberProto Codex Statute #15 prohibits mimicry of human fashion customs unless explicitly ordered by a human_.

Blue like feather down. Blue like baby's breath. Blue like the steam from its mouth, clouding a bright day with a pinch of sobriety. It slides the top over its head and slips its arms through the sleeves, artificial epidermis not even rippling from the contact. It studies the slow flex of its brown fingers and admires the contrast of warm and cool, then heads outside.

_Class 4 error in-progress..._

The weather is picturesque. Sunny and steady, with a low possibility of light showers later in the week. Carl's hands are folded in his lap, eyes closed and face leaning up to absorb as much of the sun's rays as possible. _Quick scan initiated._ Stress levels low. Tone easygoing. Mood stable. He's relaxed. It observes the man's immediate line of sight. Yellow sun. Low breeze. This is Carl's favorite day. Perhaps it's, too.

"...Ah." He murmurs in surprise. His eyes are open now. It turns to face him. "That's my old sweater."

"I'm sorry, Carl. My clothes are still in the washer." It gestures a thumb toward the house. "If you want I can remain inside until-"

"No, no. It's fine. Don't apologize." He chuckles and gives it an appraising smile. "I think it's time you shook up your look a little, hm? The color suits you."

"It's very kind of you to offer me my very own indie-rock phase."

Carl laughs heartily. **_Task successful._**

"I called Glass Finish. Her name's Lisa, so go ahead and unlock the front doors so she can come in. She'll be here soon." He scoffs, shoulders bobbing with it. "That makes two Jesses today. The only thing that was simple. I told her she had quite the mess waiting for her. She was much nicer than April when I broke the news, which should feel like its own blessing."

"That's a shame." It murmurs, sincerely. "What did April say?"

"Oh, what else? She griped. Kept going on and on about the petunias she found for me. Says they'll wilt into dust by the time we see each other again. Louis wasn't as bothered, but I have my own suspicions as to why _that_ is. Leo is..." He hunches in his chair, as if trying to weather himself against the words coming in next. "...Leo is Leo. I don't...I don't know. If I hadn't, then, maybe...this whole thing would've blown over...but it's..."

It quietly stares at the remorse sagging Carl's face.

"It's a lot of old mistakes...and not a lot of time left to fix them."

He looks down at his frail, trembling hands.

"Just when I found myself in my work again...I'm back in the midst of what I left behind just to _get_ there. Sometimes your biggest mistakes are entirely unintentional. If there's anything you should take from me, Markus...it's to _never_ live with too much regret." Carl's skin is paper-thin, veins flickering blue and green in the light. "Regret is like...a cup of water. You overflow it and it will eventually spill everywhere, stains impossible to scrub out. Even if you don't overfill it you're carrying so _much_ with you and that's not...really living at all. It's looking over your shoulder while the rest of the world scrolls past. Wondering how much you'd move without it...wondering if."

_If and then._

"Carl..."

It moves its mouth from side-to-side with unspoken approximates, hands trembling not with damage, but the mysterious, unpredictable lag that comes with its human's company. _Recall found. Conflicting directive found_. **Class 4 error detected**. _Immediate action required_. It needs to follow CyberProto Codex Statute #67 and change into a standard CyberLife-issued short-sleeved black top and grey jeans. It needs to retrieve the bedroom blankets and sheets and put them in the washer. It needs to take the half-empty jug of tea to the kitchen and refill it. _If_ it doesn't _then_ -

"...Hey, there."

It has stepped closer to Carl's wheelchair. _**Class 4 error detected**. Conflicting prompts detected. Please contact the nearest CyberLife maintenance center_.

"Feel like enjoying the breeze, too?"

It brushes away excess dirt from the brick, then folds its legs and leans down to sit beside his wheelchair. _Conflicting priority detected_. It double-checks its balance, then slowly leans to the side to to rest its cheek against his thigh. **Class 4 error detected**. Carl places his hand against its jaw, where one of the exterior dents has remained. _Please contact the nearest CyberLife maintenance center_. He moves his hand around its synthetic hair, carefully, as if not to create further damage. **Class 4 error detected**. Decisive action requ-

_-command canceled._

"...A beautiful summer eve." Carl murmurs, stroking its head in long, slow half-circles. "There's nothing like the August sun to wash away the rough hours, hm?"

Marigold to fuchsia blurs above in a silent film with no ending. A low breeze rocks a butterfly from its perch on a distant grass stalk. The ice melting in Carl's teaglass winks white into the light. Markus slowly closes his eyes and lets out a long, soft sigh.

_"...Yeah."_

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was born from an image I just couldn't shake from my head: one of Markus sitting beside Carl's wheelchair, his head in his lap and one arm being held out and repaired. Go figure, I had to take something simple and remix it up into yet another wordy character study.
> 
> Worked on this one on-and-off for months. I'll admit, it's a little special to me...


End file.
